


When Lightning Strikes

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The reader’s fear of storms drives her into Negan’s arms, and, as the thunder rumbles on, they make it through the night together.





	When Lightning Strikes

‘What the fuck are you still doing up?’

You started at the deep rumble of Negan’s voice from the doorway, tearing your eyes away from the chaos outside for a brief moment to see him slipping into your room.  You were balanced on the sill of the window that looked out over the courtyard, your knees drawn up to your chest, the oversized shirt you slept it tucked around you as you stared off into the darkness.

'Couldn’t sleep,’ you admitted, sensing his movements as he crossed the room towards you, leaning his long body against the wall on the other side of the window and regarding you from beneath a furrowed brow.  'You just got back?’

'Yeah.’  He sighed, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair, before letting them drift over his face, scrubbing over his salt and pepper beard.  You heard the thunk of Lucille coming to rest on the floor, and then he seemed to relax, the act of relinquishing his weapon almost symbolic for shrugging off the day’s worries and responsibilities.  'This damn storm’s got the biters all riled up.  Had to take a detour to avoid a herd.  Added a couple of hours onto the run.’

You nodded, but your attention was torn away from him as another fork of lightning split the sky, throwing your room into stark relief for a moment, eerie shadows dancing over your walls before the night fell dark once more.  'Shit.’

'Hey.’  You flinched as Negan’s hand found your arm, stroking gently over the plaid fabric, and he ducked his head to meet your panicked eyes.  'You doing okay there, sweetheart?’

'I’m fine,’ you lied, but then a crack of thunder shook the building and your body jolted as your fear took hold, forcing your spine rigid.  'I, erm- I’m just not crazy about storms, I guess.’

Chocolate eyes raked over your face before continuing south, taking in your clammy skin and trembling hands, Negan’s frown deepening as he took a step closer.  ‘Shit, doll, look at you.  You’re fucking terrified.’

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as he wrapped strong arms around you and tugged you into his embrace, pulling you from your position on the sill and supporting your weight when your shaky legs refused to stand.  ‘I’m sorry.’

'How the fuck did I not know this?’

It was a good question.  You’d been with Negan since pretty much the beginning.  He’d found you at the hospital, around about the time everything had gone to hell, crying in the corridor, your body curled into a ball as you sobbed.  You’d found out later of course that he’d just lost his wife, his Lucille, and so he recognised your pain.  You’d just spent the past few hours watching your brother’s life slip away, the light in his eyes dimming, and the monotonous drone of the heart monitor had continued even as he’d reached out a cold, lifeless hand and snagged a hold of your hair, dragging you closer.  Without a clue what was happening, you’d fled the room, but then it had all begun to make sense - the news reports, the bedlam going on down in the city below.  Your brother had become one of them, one of those things, the monsters that were ravaging your world, but try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to put an end to his suffering.  Negan had done it for you, and you’d been by his side ever since.

You missed a little of the closeness you’d once shared since he’d taken control of the Sanctuary.  He still looked after you, of course.  You had your own quarters just down the hall from his rooms, and an unlimited supply of points to ensure that you never went without, but he was constantly busy, coming and going, and it seemed you only ever got the pleasure of his company in the early hours of the morning when sleep escaped him.  There’d been a time when it had just been the two of you, talking endlessly around a campfire, seeking to fight off the grief and loneliness that plagued you both, and then there had been others, small groups that came and went or got torn apart, and you’d stuck together, watching each others’ backs.  So, how the hell hadn’t he known?  You supposed it had seemed easier to bear out there in the wilds, when you could nestle into his side, bury your face in the soft leather of his jacket, and know that you could run if you needed to.

'I think it’s worse being in here,’ you explained now, inhaling his whiskey-leather scent and feeling your anxiety fade, just a little.  'Like I’m trapped.  I know that’s stupid, but every time there’s a clap of thunder, it feels like the walls close in a little more, y'know?’

'Was it…,’ he began, before tailing off, trying to read your reactions, fearing increasing your discomfort.  'Did something happen?’

'What?’  You wrinkled your nose in confusion before grasping his meaning.  'Oh, no.  I mean, nothing major.  I think it started when I was a kid.  A tree in our town got struck by lightning.  Everyone was talking about it - small town news, right? - and the next day, they took our class to see it, to learn about electricity and weather systems or whatever.  It was decimated.  I mean, the trunk had almost split in two, and the branches were all blackened and splintered.  After that, whenever there was a storm-’  Another rumble of thunder cut you off and Negan’s hold on you tightened.  'After that, I just kept thinking, what would it look like if that happened to a house or to a person?’

He shot you a sad smile, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’

'And then a year or so later our dog got out during a really wild electric storm, and Dad was getting ready to go out and look, and I begged him not to.  I was so scared that he wouldn’t come home.  So, he stayed, but we never saw the dog again.’

Your back was to the window now, but when the sky was lit by another spike of lightning, Negan’s face was illuminated in bright white.  'Is there anything I can do?’

'I-I don’t think so.’  You tried to keep your tone light, to hide how badly you needed him.  This close up, you could see the exhaustion behind his eyes, and you knew he should really try to rest.  'You should turn in for the night.  You’ve had a long day.  I’ll be fine.’

'I’m not leaving you like this.’  You could see the cogs whirring in his mind, and then he turned away from you, whipping your covers from the bed and bundling them up in his arms.  'Come with me.’

'Negan, where are we-’

'Just fucking come, would you?  I’ve got an idea.’

You followed him from the room, immediately regretting it when the thunder seemed to barrel along the maze of corridors, like it was seeking you out, stalking you, as he led you down the stairs, descending through the building until you reached the ground floor.  At this time of night, it was almost deserted, only the guards that kept watch occasionally passing through on their patrols, and, when he stepped into the main hall and strode towards the centre of the room, dropping the blankets onto the hard, concrete floor and spreading his arms with a flourish, you frowned.

‘What- what are we doing?’

He didn’t answer as he dropped into a low crouch, spreading the quilt out and motioning for you to come closer.

'Negan…’

'Lay down, c'mon.’  He did as he was asking you to, settling himself in the middle of the quilt and patting the space beside him, stretching his lean body out and cushioning his head on one arm.  'Just fucking humour me, would you?’

Another crash of thunder had you scurrying across the room towards him and you finally did as you were told, laying down at his side and scooting closer when he pulled the blanket over you, snaking an arm around you so you could nestle into his chest.  'Why are we sleeping on the floor?’

'Thought it might help.’  He freed his arm from the makeshift sleeping bag he’d created, gesturing at the high ceiling and the windows that ran along the top of the room.  'I’m not letting you go out in this, doll.  It’s a sure fucking way to get yourself killed or worse.  But this is the biggest damn room in the entire factory, so I figured it’d take a little longer for the walls to get too close down here.’

You couldn’t help but smile at that, and you had to admit that your racing heart had slowed a little, your panic subsiding away from the claustrophobic confines of your room.  Negan’s arm was solid when it returned to its place resting over your waist, like a shield, keeping you safe from the elements that battered the building, and you finally felt like you could breathe a little easier.  'Thank you.’

'Plus, you can’t see the lightning from down here,’ he pointed out as the room brightened for a second, before the gloom rolled back in.  ‘So, maybe we’ll just pretend it’s fireworks or something, whaddya say?  Fucking fourth of July in the middle of winter.’

You nodded, willing to play along, to go with his attempts to distract you.  'Kinda feels like we’re back out on the road again, just you and me, doesn’t it?’

'I guess it does.’

'I miss those days,’ you confessed and you felt a hum of contentment vibrate through his chest.

‘Shit, sweetheart, so do I.  Things were so much fucking easier back then.’

You giggled.  'Us against the world!  God, we didn’t have a damn clue, did we?  How bad things could get?’

'But we came through it.’  His fingers had drifted up to comb through your hair and his eyes sparkled as they locked with yours.  'Every damn thing the world threw our way, we got through it.  You and me, doll.  We can do anything.’  He quirked an eyebrow at you.  'Even make it through a fucking thunderstorm, am I right?’

‘We’ll see,’ you teased, and he scoffed, shaking his head.  'Thank you for doing this for me.’

‘I’d do anything for you, sweetheart.  You know that.’  His words hung heavy in the air, and you realised that, although there’d been a time when you had known that, it had been too long since you’d really lived with that certainty.  Your doubt must have been written all over your face, because he continued, 'What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, princess?’

You swallowed hard.  'What if I asked you to leave with me?  What if I asked you to walk away from this place and we can just strike out on our own again, like how we used to be?  Would you do that for me?’

His expression had grown serious as you spoke and he regarded you now through darkened eyes.  'Is that something you’d want?  To be back out there without the roof over your head, and the fences keeping the corpses out, and the guarantee of a hot meal in your belly?’

You shrugged.  'I mean, it’s not like I’m not happy here.  I know how hard you’ve worked to make this place what it is, but…’

'What?  What is it, sweetheart?  Talk to me.’

'I just… I get kinda lonely sometimes, I guess.  I mean, you have your lieutenants and your wives and everyone here looks up to you.  The only person I have is you and some days I don’t even see you, Negan.’  He didn’t open his mouth to speak so you pressed on.  ‘Yeah, it was hard out there.  Surviving was hard, I get that.  But I miss…’

'What?’

'I miss having you all to myself.’

His reply was drowned out as a boom of thunder echoed through the hall, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck as you fought to stay calm.  'Hey, it’s okay.  I’ve got you.’

'I know,’ you murmured, though you made no move to pull away.  'I know.’

Another loud crack and it seemed as though the storm was drawing in, getting closer, louder.  'Y/N-’

'What if I asked you to kiss me?’

You felt him hesitate, the rise and fall of his chest faltering as he processed your request.  'I-I don't… Why would you ask me that?’

In the years that you’d spent at Negan’s side, it had been a line you’d never crossed.  You were friends.  Friends that had been to the end of the world and back, that would die for each other - nearly had a few times - but just friends, nonetheless.  But you could feel your fear creeping back in, and the thunder rumbled on, and the lightning was painting the tops of the walls with shadows that you couldn’t explain, and you needed him in that moment.  

'Because I’m scared,’ you admitted.  'And I need you to do more than just hold me if I’m not gonna freak the hell out right now.  Kiss me, please.  Please, Negan.’

Time slowed as his fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him, his eyes searching yours for some sign of uncertainty.  But he found none, and he edged closer, his lips hovering just out of reach.  The tension was a delicious distraction, and you curled your fingers into the neck of his t-shirt, noticing how his breath shook as your hands brushed against the bare skin of his chest beneath.  And then a deafening boom shook the room and he hauled you towards him.  His mouth crashed down on yours, hungry, forceful, taking your breath away as your limbs tangled.  You could taste the liquor that you knew he’d have poured as soon as he got home on his tongue.  His beard scratched against your skin, drawing a gasp from your throat, and he swallowed it greedily, as he did every whimper that escaped you.  It had been a long time since you’d been kissed, even longer since you’d been kissed like this, and you let the sensation pull you under, until you thought you might drown in the musk of his cologne and the soft groans that punctuated every breath he broke away to take and the pressure of his hand on the back of your neck.

When he finally released you, panting hard, his forehead resting against your own, you could feel the electricity sparking between you, and it was every bit as terrifying as the lightning that sparked in the night sky.  

'Wow.  I mean, I guess I can see why you have so many wives.’  You fought to lighten the mood, to play down what had just happened and the feelings it had stirred within you, but Negan was watching you through glazed eyes, his own face a picture of wonder.

'I don’t kiss my fucking wives like that.’  Something passed between you then, an unspoken promise, an acknowledgement of the shift that had just taken place.  'And, to answer your first question, I can’t leave this place right now.  There’s a war coming our way and I don’t know if I can keep you safe if we’re on our own out there.  But give me time, doll.  Let me see this through, and when it’s done, when it’s all over and we’ve got this little rebellion well and truly fucking stamped on, if you still wanna go, then yeah, I’ll leave with you.’

It hadn’t been what you’d expected.  You’d thought you’d get a flat-out no, and your heart had been prepared to deal with that.  But, with your lips still burning from the heat of his kiss, his declaration took on even more weight and you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you processed that.  'Okay.’

'I told you, doll, I’d do anything for you.  All of this means shit if you don’t want it.’

'So, what do we do now?’  It was a loaded question and you weren’t sure what you were hoping to hear, but he calmed your nerves with a devastatingly handsome grin that only grew when the wind rattled the windows in their frames and you flinched against him.

'First, we make it through the fucking night, okay?’  His nose brushed against yours, his mouth tantalisingly close once again, a sure suggestion of how he intended to get you through 'til the morning.  ‘Then we decide together what comes next.’


End file.
